


Better Off

by gayouijaboard



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Flashbacks, Klaus x Reader, Reader-Insert, Reunion, Series, So much angst, Some Fluff, Substance Abuse, but like are you shocked? It’s klaus, drifted apart, fem!reader by request
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-27 13:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18195335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayouijaboard/pseuds/gayouijaboard
Summary: After twelve years of unexplained silence, you’re the absolute last person Klaus Hargreeves wants to see — which would be fine, if you didn’t have reason to believe someone was currently gunning for his death. Your plan is to leave as soon as you’re able to properly warn him of the danger he’s in, but as seems to be typical when Klaus is involved, your plans are (literally) shot to shit.





	1. Prologue

The first time you laid eyes on the boy in the cemetery, you instantly wanted to make him your best friend.

You weren’t sure why, exactly. Maybe it was because you pitied him; couldn’t have been much fun, spending his nights locked away in a crypt like he did. Then again, maybe it was because all the kids your age looked at you funny when they found out you were different, and you liked to think there was no way a boy who slept in mausoleums had any room to judge. Or, truthfully, maybe you were just lonely. All you knew was that you wanted a friend, and now you had the perfect chance to get one.

Hence why you were now booking it across the cemetery, periodically glancing over your shoulder to make sure that creepy old man was nowhere to be found. You couldn’t have him interrupting your friendship offer — what if he told the boy you weren’t allowed to talk to each other? Then this would all be for nothing, and you’d have to risk returning to your foster home and having to suffer the tidal wave of punishment that was sure to come down on you upon your arrival.

The door to the mausoleum was heavy, not at all kind to your developing muscles. It took some work, but you finally managed to crack it open just wide enough for you to slip inside. Your arms shrieked in protest as they dropped back down to your sides; damn. You’d need to get better at using your gift if you were going to visit this boy every night to avoid your arms falling off, though that wasn’t exactly an easy thing to do. Your foster parents would throw you out of the house in a heartbeat if they had any idea that something was _wrong_ with you.

Stepping over the threshold and into the darkness, you scanned the room until you found the object of your interest. His eyes were screwed shut tight, hands clasped over his ears in an effort to block out some noise you couldn’t hear. His skin was pale, almost alarmingly so, and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. His clothing was covered with dust and debris, courtesy of the mausoleum’s floor. He looked... miserable. Scared.

Nothing _you_ couldn’t fix.

Tiptoeing closed so as not to alarm him, you crouched down and leaned close to his face. Plastering your best smile on your mouth, you inhaled a deep breath and said, “Hi! Nice to meet you!”

A blood curdling scream wrenched out of the boy’s throat as he threw out his arms defensively, effectively startling you into falling flat on your butt after getting a firm smack to the face.

“Get away from me!” he screamed, eyes wide and filled to the brim with terror at the sight of you. He paused for a moment, confusion overtaking him. “Why can I touch you?” he demanded, voice still shaking. “What kind of ghost _are_ you?”

You blinked back the tears in your eyes, not wanting to make the wrong first impression. Hitting you had been an accident — clearly you’d taken the kid by surprise. Besides, maybe creeping up on him like that hadn’t exactly been smart. “I’m not a ghost, silly,” you told him, mustering up another smile. It wasn’t easy, what with your cheek stinging wildly and all, but you managed. “I’m just a person!”

He only stared at you further, lost for words. You knew that look well; it was the same one you got every time you transferred to a new foster home and the other kids looked at you like bug eyed little freaks. You _hated_ that look, actually, but you were willing to forgive your new friend for it. He had yet to get to know you, after all.

“Hey, are you okay?” you tried again. Brushing away the leaves on the floor, you scooted forward and sat cross cross apple sauce just in front of him. After a moment, the boy shifted so that your knees knocked together. It was a simple touch, one that only happened once, but you could see the stress and fear deflate right out of him as soon as physical contact had been made. Weird; it was almost like he was checking to see if you were real. “You seem kind of sad.”

“You would too if _your_ dad locked you in here every night,” he remarked, frowning. The more you looked, the more you noticed about him. How his eyes were a bright shade of green even in the darkness, underlined by dark circles. How he seemed almost too skinny for his frame, even though his face still possessed the roundness of a kid your age. How the nails on his fingers were painted black, the polish beginning to chip at the ends.

The more you observed, the more you found that you liked.

“Hang on,” you said, waving a hand in the air for emphasis. “That weird old guy out there is your dad?”

That particular comment won you a surprised laugh, accompanied by eyes squeezed shit in amusement and the uncrossing of the boy’s arms from around his middle. Small victories were small, but they remained victories nonetheless. “Only kind of.” At the confused narrowing of your eyes, he laughed again. You were still getting to know him, obviously, but you found that you enjoyed the sound. “He adopted me and my brothers and sisters because we’re... um, special.”

You tilted your head in confusion, cradling your face in your own hands. Special...? Why did he say that the same way you did about yourself? Like it was some big secret that someone might judge you for if they discovered the truth about you? “Special how? Special like... when adults tell you that you’re special after you said something super dumb? Special like that?”

“What? No,” he giggled, shaking his head. “You’re so weird.” Your knees knocked together once more, and once again, you noted the look of relief on his face. Did he just like touching? Maybe you should make it a point to include touching in your offer of best friendship, when you finally got around to making it. “We’re special like... okay, have you ever heard of the Umbrella Academy?”

You nodded. It was the truth — all the kids you knew never actually shut up about the Academy. Didn’t matter whether you were at school, hidden away in the corner while you eavesdropped on your classmates’ conversations about what their potential superpowers would be, or if you were at home, intentionally ostracizing yourself from the other foster kids as they acted out the bank robbery story because you knew they wouldn’t last much longer in the house. Everywhere you looked or went, kids your age were day dreaming about being part of the Umbrella Academy, itching to get the call that they, too, had been born that fateful day, and that Reginald Hargreeves was coming to adopt and train them as his eighth child.

Never mind the fact that every time you tried to mention that you, too, had been born on October 1st, 1989, and that you _also_ had special powers — powers easy enough to show proof of, amazingly — everyone laughed in your face.

“Of course I know about the Umbrella Academy,” you responded, fixing your new friend with a ‘duh’ look. “Who doesn’t?”

“Okay,” the boy continued. “Well, my name is Klaus. Klaus Hargreeves. I’m... I’m Number Four.”

Number Four. Klaus Hargreeves. Those two things were significant, you knew, and from the way he’d said it you knew there wasn’t an ounce of untruth to his words at all. It took a moment, given the fact that the hour was late and you were tired out of your mind, but eventually you managed to put two and two together.

Klaus Hargreeves.

The one that saw ghosts.

“Nice to meet you, Klaus,” you told him, offering a hand forward. When he didn’t hesitate to grasp it in his, fingers surprisingly warm to the touch, you felt some sort of satisfaction in your chest. Klaus wanted your company; no one had ever seemed to want _that_ before. “You were always my favorite, for what it’s worth. I still don’t get why you’re here, though.”

“Dead people are freaky,” he whispered conspiratorially, leaning forward to meet your gaze with wide eyes. You weren’t sure why he said it like it was some big secret, but you liked the fact that he was trusting you with it. Best friends kept secrets with each other, right? This was just the first of many for the two of you. “I hate to look at them, but they never go away when I tell them to, and it’s... it gets scary, you know? But my dad doesn’t care. He says my I’m useless if I can’t control my fear.”

You frowned, clasping his hand with both of yours. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had to offer right now; you just hoped it made him feel a little better. “Your dad doesn’t sound like a good dad,” you said matter of factly. “Does he do stuff like this to the others?”

Klaus shook his head, squeezing your fingers and once again sighing in relief. “No,” he admitted. “Just me, I’m... I’m the only one. I don’t work.”

There was pain in his voice; you were too young to understand it, and it was doubtful that Klaus even knew what it was himself, but it was easy enough to gather what needed to be done to correct it. You just had to make him feel better. If you could do that... if you could do that, you’d be doing something good for him. He’d want to be around you, and the two of you could find comfort in one another.

“What if I stay with you?” you asked gently, squeezing his palms. “Would that be okay?”

Klaus scrunched his brows in confusion. He seemed like he wanted to protest, but another part of him seemed like he wanted to beg you to stay. It didn’t really matter either way; your mind was practically already made up. No one noticed you at your foster home, so no one would really care that you had been gone all night. It was the weekend, mercifully, so dodging overly invested teachers wasn’t a problem. The only thing that might’ve given you pause was that you were offering to stay the night in a cemetery with a boy you admittedly had no clue about, but then... you were familiar with the terrain, given that it was your birth mother’s burial sight, and cemeteries were only creepy if you could actually see the ghosts.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Klaus murmured, “what if you—“

“Number Four!”

You whipped your head around, the voice calling for Klaus breaking the moment the two of you were sharing. Between the use of his Academy number and the horror now present on Klaus’ face, you could only guess that the voice belonged to his father, Reginald Hargreeves.

“You can’t be here,” Klaus whispered, pulling you up to your feet and frantically searching around the mausoleum. You knew what he was doing, but there was no point; there were no hiding places, nor was there any way for you to leave aside from the front entrance. Mausoleums were designed with one way in, and one way out; better for keeping dead things captive that way. “If he sees you here, he’ll lose his shit, and who knows what he’ll do to me then! You have to go!”

“He’s already in front of the door,” you whispered back, doing your best to sound calm. “If I try to leave now, he’ll see me anyway. Don’t worry, alright? It’s gonna be fine.”

Klaus looked like he wanted to protest more, but you didn’t give him the chance. Now was the time to prove that you were smart, capable; now was the time to put your power to use and prove that he should want to be your new best friend.

Inhaling a deep breath, you closed your eyes, concentrating hard on the air around you. Normally you liked to try and visualize what you wanted, but there was no time. All you had was faith in yourself, faith that you weren’t crazy, and faith that Klaus was gonna think you were the fucking best once you pulled this off. And so, keeping all of that in your mind and setting your intention, you lifted a foot off the ground and placed it onto a solid surface, then repeated the action with the other foot, and so on and forth until the crown of your head brushed the ceiling of the mausoleum. It wasn’t much of a drop to the floor, but it was a great enough distance that Klaus’ father would only catch sight of you if he looked up, which he should have no reason to do.

“How did you _do_ that?” Klaus whispered, shock and wonder in his eyes. “Are you like—?”

His words were cut off with the opening of the mausoleum’s door, his attention ripped away from you and to the wispy face of his father poking its way in to survey the situation. That was probably for the best; you didn’t need Klaus giving away your location. You might’ve been able to solidify air for your personal needs and purposes, but its opacity never changed. The second Reginald looked up, you were a goner.

“Number Four,” Klaus’ father repeated. You didn’t like the way his tone was both accusatory and all knowing. Matter of fact, you sort of hated it. This man was clearly just another adult who didn’t understand how his actions were hurting his child. “Was that a conversation I heard you having? Were you speaking to a spirit?” From your vantage point, you could see the black glimmer of expectation in Reginald’s eyes. It wasn’t aimed at you, but it made you shutter all the same.

Klaus hesitated a moment, resisting the urge to glance up at you. “No,” he answered his father, training his gaze on the floor. “I was talking to myself. It makes them... it makes them leave me alone.”

The change in Reginald’s demeanor was practically instantaneous. “Number Four, if you can not stop yourself from actively evading the dead, I will be forced to muzzle you.” Pure terror tingled at your nerves, and the instinct to drop from your hiding place kick this man in the face for being so awful to your new friend wasn’t easily ignored. It was only for Klaus’ sake that you managed to control yourself. “Do you _understand_ me?”

“Y-yes,” Klaus mumbled, deflating. “I understand.”

“Good. Then you’ll stay here until _morning_ , and you’ll begin regular training with the others immediately after.”

Alarmed, Klaus stared at his father in disbelief. “But— but when will I sleep?”

“When you’re _dead_ ,” his father declared. He was gone not a moment later, shutting the door to the mausoleum tightly as he went.

You dropped from your hiding place immediately, hitting the ground with a resounding thud. Materializing the air was the easy part; getting back down was a whole separate issue entirely.

“Are y-you okay?” Klaus stammered out, rushing to your side. You pretended not to notice that he looked like he was on the verge of tears, and you also pretended like you needed the help as he pulled you off the ground. You didn’t know him well, but the few minutes you’d spend with him told you that he was probably looking for comfort in physical contact.

“I’m fine,” you told him, leaning into his touch to let him know it was okay. “Are you okay? Your dad wasn’t being very nice to you.”

Impossibly, Klaus laughed. You were quick to add ‘good at making light of bad situations’ to the mental list you were beginning to keep of his traits. “He’s never very nice. Sometimes I think he’s, like, a robot or something. The bad kind, though, not like my mom. At least she has feelings.”

You didn’t know what any of that meant, but you smiled through it anyway. Klaus didn’t need judgement right now, nor did he need questions or curiosity. Truth was, he could probably do with exactly what you’d come here tonight to offer him.

A friend.

“Klaus,” you murmured, tugging on his hand to get him to look up at your face. “You never answered my question. You want me to stay here with you?”

There was hesitation in his face, like he wanted to say yes but was unsure if that was allowed. “I’m... I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Y/n,” you replied, trying your best not to laugh at him. “Now you know it.”

“That’s... I mean, okay,” Klaus responded. You could tell something was still bothering him, but you didn’t want to interrupt him before he got the chance to ask what he so clearly wanted to. “Why would you do that, though?”

Easy.

“Because,” you said simply. You pulled him down to the floor, to the corner you had first found him in, and you left your hand in his as the two of you settled against the stone wall. Once it was clear you had no plans of leaving, you moved to take his other hand as well. Offering up the most sincere smile you were capable of, you told him, “I wanna be your best friend.” It was simple, but it was the truth.

 _That_ , at least, you knew you would always be able to give him.

Or so you’d thought.


	2. Now That You’re Back...

**September 16th, 2019**

**12 years later**

 

Looking at him hurt.   


That was the only thought racing through your mind as you stared across the room, the violent bass of the EDM music masking the thud of your heartbeat in your ears. The longer you watched, the more you began to think that this hadn’t been the best idea. A letter might’ve been more effective than you showing up in person — at least that way he wouldn’t immediately shut you down when you tried to speak, and you’d have the peace of mind that you’d at least _tried_.   


You might have actually considered sending the letter if you’d had any sort of address to send it to. Unfortunately, any and all attempts to reach out to the Hargreeves siblings went ignored, and as far as you could tell, Klaus himself had no current physical address. At least, not one outside of the Academy, though anything you sent there returned to your mailbox with an angry red ‘return to sender’ stamp.   


So, you’d tracked him down to this god awful night club. Hadn’t been easy by any means, nor were you particularly excited to find out what might happen once you actually showed your face, but... well. Any and all negative thoughts didn’t currently matter, if only because you’d finally found Klaus, seeing him in person for the first time in a decade and a half.   


He danced chaotically, like he was trying to lose some part of himself in the crowd. Tattooed palms twirled through the air, guiding his body every which way, and the neon lights raining down from the ceiling provided his skin with an ethereal kind of glow. Sweat coated his arms and dampened his hair, making it clear that he’d been at it for quite some time and had no plans to stop. His face was raised to the ceiling, pure bliss in that crooked smile of his, and for just a few moments it was easy to pretend that was only because he was enjoying himself.   


Perhaps the most notable thing about him — and most surprising — was that he was alone.   


He looked different from the last time you’d seen him, though that wasn’t any great surprise. Twelve years apart was bound to have some effect on how he looked versus how you remembered him, but thinking about that too hard left a bitter taste in your mouth.   


He looked happy, at least. Here in this nightclub, dancing without a care in the world, Klaus looked like he had found some small part of himself. That was all you’d ever wanted for him, truth be told. It just hurt that it hadn’t happened with you.   


“You should go talk to him!” someone shouted at you, words barely audible over the thumping base of the floor. Looking to the side, you found a short woman with bright pink hair, seemingly clad in nothing but fishnets and rainbow glow sticks. The hazy, glass eyed stare she fixed you with, added to the Cheshire Cat grin adorning her red painted lips was enough to enlighten you to her current state. It was kind of amazing she’d been able to focus long enough to catch you staring. “He’s a little weird, and he never really shuts up, but he’s a _great_ time!”

 

Like _you_ needed to be told how lovely Klaus was.   


You nodded awkwardly, pushing forward to escape the interaction and ignoring the fact that the woman’s description didn’t sound much like the Klaus you remembered. He’d been eccentric when you’d known him, as well as somewhat chatty, but he’d always... well, you supposed it didn’t matter. That had been a long time ago; there was bound to be a shift in personality.   


_You’d_ certainly undergone one.   


The closer you moved to Klaus’ location, the more you found yourself being jostled by sticky shoulders and sweaty hands. The urge to use your power to repel people from touching you was strong, but resisting it was crucial. It had been years since you’d even tried using it— your power brought thoughts of Klaus and your time together, as well as the painful memory of having to leave him, so you’d done your best to pretend you were just another person. Being as awfully out of practice as you were, there were no guarantees that you wouldn’t end up sending people flying by mistake. That was fine; if getting to Klaus and warning him of his lack of safety meant you had to put up with a few sharp elbows to the ribcage, it was the least you could do.   


Finally making it over to his own little bubble, you stole a deep breath, thanking your lucky stars that his eyes were still shut. You had no doubt in your mind that, had Klaus seen you coming, he would have immediately turned and walked in the other direction. Admittedly, you still weren’t entirely sure that he wouldn’t do exactly that as soon as you tried speaking to him, but you had to make the effort. This was important, and there was no time to bring up past feelings. All you needed to do was warn him, and then you’d be able to let him get back to his life.   


You tapped his arm gently, but it gave him no pause. Of course — this was a nightclub, after all. This was one of the few places where Klaus could get the constant physical stimulus he had always so desperately craved for comfort. People would be accidentally touching him all night in a place like this. Getting his attention was going to have to be a lot more disruptive than that.   


Sighing, and sending a prayer to whoever was listening that this wouldn’t get too messy, you reached up and grabbed Klaus’ wrist, tugging it down from above his head. It worked; that wide grin was still on his face, but his eyes were now open and skimming you from head to toe. Huh. A lot simpler than you’d assumed it would be, with very little animosity in his gaze.   


That was a shock.   


“Jesus,” he drawled, shaking his head and blinking hard. “I must have taken _way_ more than I meant to, I only see _you_ when I’m...” He interrupted his own sentence to let out a startling laugh, the kind that had him throwing his head back in delight. “When I’m _extra_ trashed.”   


You stared in silence, finding it difficult to string together some kind of response. Twelve years apart, not a single word of communication with each other in between, and yet the very moment you were back in his presence it was like you’d never left.

You were twelve again, offering a sweet, scared boy your hand in friendship with an old mausoleum as your backdrop. You were fourteen, offering Klaus one of the candy bars you’d lifted from the convenience store down the street from your foster home, a mischievous grin plastered on his face as he also produced chocolate, but the _special_ kind. You were sixteen, nerve endings singing with the ecstatic elation only a belly half full of shitty champagne mixed with the rush of your first kiss under a New Year’s sky lit with fireworks could produce.   


You were seventeen, fighting against the urge to cry and failing as you lied through your teeth to Klaus’ face, telling him you never wanted to see him again.   


Klaus shook his head, rubbing at his eyes for a moment with the back of his hand. He reached out, fingers toying delicately with the soft fabric at the neckline of your shirt. Stiffening, you pretended like the brush of his knuckles against your clavicle hadn’t immediately sent a shockwave of electricity shooting up your spine. “Well, I definitely got the clothes right this time. You never _did_ have much of a fashion sense.”   


The words were mean, though nowhere near as vicious as you’d assumed they would be. Part of you figured you should be grateful for the fact that Klaus wasn’t currently chewing your head off or repeatedly cursing you to hell, but a bigger part of you couldn’t help but ponder what he’d said. What did he mean, your clothes were right this time? Why wasn’t he surprised to see you? Shouldn’t he be storming off in a fit of rage, screaming, telling you he never wanted to see you again? That was what anyone in their right mind would do, wasn’t it?   


Unless, of course, Klaus wasn’t _in_ his right mind.   


All you could do was stupidly open and shut your mouth as the revelation hit you. Klaus — tremors wracking his fingers, pupils blown to shit, high as a kite — was under the impression that he was hallucinating you. And, from the way he was speaking, it sounded like he’d done it several times before.   


“Klaus,” you shouted over the music, ignoring the terrible aching in your chest. You reached up to cover where his hand was still fiddling with your collar with your own. “I’m here for real. Can we go somewhere and talk? Please?”   


He shook his head, another manic laugh tumbling out of him. It was strange, how much that genuinely delighted sound could tear through your heart like it was made of nothing more than glue and ribbon. “You’re not _real_ ,” he giggled, a bliss filled grin creeping its way onto his lips. The dark rings of makeup around his eyes only served to make him look even more catlike. “You flew away from me a long time ago, and I... oh... I still haven’t quite figured out why.” His smile gave way to a frown just as suddenly as it had appeared, and you took his moment of confusion to begin gently pulling him away from the center of the dance floor. Amazingly, he didn’t seem to even register that the two of you were moving. “Didn’t you miss me at all?”   


“Of course I—“ You had to stop yourself, the words far too eager to jump from your lips.   


_Of course I missed you. I still do. You’re the only thing_ course _I_   _ever_ _think_ _about_.   


Your eyes were stinging suddenly, and you were now far enough away from the thick of the dance floor that you could reach up and swat at your tears with your free hand without getting caught on other people. Leave it to Klaus fucking Hargreeves to move you to tears simply by asking a question. “Look, we can talk about that later, okay? But we need to go now, it’s not safe here.”   


He let you pull him the rest of the way to the nightclub’s exit, his hand a beacon of warmth compared to yours. Even as his mind seemed to wander off and away from him, his fingers curled tighter and tighter around your palm, nails scraping gently against the skin of your hand. It was electric, the effect he had on you; you found it awfully unfair that none of his charms had dissipated in your time spent apart.   


The club’s parking lot was just about the sketchiest thing you’d ever come across— impressive, really, considering you and Klaus used to recreationally smoke joints in a fucking _cemetery_. There were three people in the badly lit alley across the way, doing god knows what with each other. Across the lot, beneath a street lamp, two people were participating in a very obvious, not at all inconspicuous drug deal. To your left a ways, there was a man in a pink chiffon skirt with a multitude of skull tattoos adorning his arms laying flat on his back, seemingly mumbling to himself as he stared up at the few stars visible in the light polluted night sky.   


Truly a gem of a place your old friend had managed to find here.   


You’d just barely made it the last ten feet to your car when Klaus’ steps abruptly began to slow, gently tugging you backward. “Hang on a sec, _ma_ _chérie_ ,” he murmured as you turned to face him, words a little less slurred than you would’ve figured. The term of endearment hit you like a slap to the face, and it wasn’t clear if it was a good one or a bad one. Those nicknames had been a constant, back when the two of you were convinced you were in love. They were ever changing, only Klaus’ personal favorites getting repeated, but to hear one so effortlessly dropped in reference to you — like Klaus didn’t even have to try to love you again, because he’d never stopped — was judgement clouding.   


Enough so that you missed the sarcastic hitch to the pet name, and wouldn’t realize what it had really sounded like falling from his mouth until the next morning.   


“Klaus,” you sighed, turning over your shoulder to see what exactly he wanted. There wasn’t time for this, much as you hated to think it. “I’m sorry, but there’s no time. We really need to get out of here.”   


You failed to notice how close he had suddenly become, preoccupied as you were with trying to remember how exactly to get to the Academy and pondering whether you were strong enough to simply muscle Klaus into the passenger seat of your car via sheer will. He was bigger than you thanks to his height, but he was just as scrawny as he’d always been. Once again you were tempted to try out your power for the first time in years, but risking Klaus’ safety wasn’t worth any positive outcome. You’d already put him through enough.   


“This won’t take long,” he whispered, gently tilting your chin up with the warm fingers of his free hand. Before you could even register what he was doing or how he was looking at you, he’d surged forward, soft lips pushing up against your own.   


All thoughts of why you were here and where you might possibly take him to explain your sudden return flew out the window. Everything you knew, everything you thought was correct or justified, no longer mattered — and how could it? How could any of it, when Klaus was touching you like he used to, like you were the only important thing in the world? God, how had you ever thrown this away, and what had it all been for? The two of you could’ve been happy together. It was likely you’d have married this man, had he asked you to, but you would never know if that was what fate had in store for you — you’d sold yourself out before Klaus had likely ever gotten the chance to consider it.   


Maybe it was weakness that forced you to let Klaus keep kissing you, or maybe it was just the fact that you _missed_ this. The familiarity of his long, pale fingers threading through your hair, the heat of his breath in your mouth that made your chest ache and your mind soar. Jesus, how you’d longed for this in your loneliness again and again, and how you’d played back your memories on a loop as you fell asleep at night.   


Pathetic, really.   


“Klaus,” you breathed, hurt and confusion crackling through your senses. “Klaus, _stop_ it.” You pushed him away, trying to ignore the stinging tears in your eyes. This time, when you looked at his face, you noticed the hard set to his jaw, the hurt, angry glint in his pupils.    


“Oh, _there’s_ that guilt I was looking for,” he noted, words filled with contempt. The peaceful mask he wore shattered, fracturing into thousands of little pieces, and his hands jerked away from you like he’d just pressed his palms flat against a hot stove. His words were still as oddly musical as they’d always been, but there was no playfulness in his tone or face. “Sorry for the dirty trick, but I had to make sure you were really _you_. You wouldn’t believe how good people have gotten at fucking me over.” Klaus paused, letting out a humorous laugh, then added, “Not to worry, though. _You’re_ still the best at it.”   


You blinked a moment, terrible realization rippling through your mind as you put two and two together. You stepped back, the tears in your eyes finally spilling over and onto your cheeks. “You... you’re not even high, are you? You were just pretending to... you were just...”   


His demeanor transformed before your very eyes. Gone was the dopey smile he’d been wearing while dancing under the neon lights, along with the carefree aura and the illusion of blissful ignorance. In their places were things like blackened mirth and chaotic tranquility. “Oh don’t get me _wrong_ , dove,” he giggled, making it clear that it was entirely at your expense. “I’m fucking plastered! And at first, I really did think you were just in my head, but then...” He lifted his hand and poked a finger to the notch of your clavicle. “You’re not wearing your necklace, and you always are when I dream you up.”   


You wrenched his hand away from your chest, eyes burning and cheeks dampening further. “Get in the _fucking_ _car_ , Klaus,” you hissed, violently gesturing toward the passenger door of your car. For a moment it looked like he might protest, but eventually he rolled his eyes and slinked his way to the door, wordlessly doing as you had commanded.   


Maybe you should have expected something like this, but some stupid part of you had been holding out hope that Klaus could actually be somewhat decent during your reunion.   


You should’ve known better.   


Inhaling a deep breath, you stole all the confidence you could as you got into the driver’s seat of your car and immediately handed your phone to Klaus. “Put in the Academy’s address. We need to talk somewhere safe. It’s important.”   


He looked like he had some sort of smartass remark to throw your way, but you could see the moment he decided against making it and simply going along with your plan. Maybe he figured he’d tortured you enough with that whole kissing situation. Or, maybe he was trying to decide some other way to hurt you more. Either way, you didn’t much care.   


Klaus wordlessly did as you asked, handing your phone back to you and watching as you started up the car, pulling out of the sketchy parking lot and beginning to follow the map’s directions.   


Minutes passed, and you could still feel Klaus’ steady gaze on your face. He eyed you, some light present in his eyes that you couldn’t name. Was that fondness? Curiosity, maybe? Terror? Possibly a mixture of the three? “I wonder about you, you know,” he mumbled. “And I try to find answers, but the harder I try to find them... the further away they seem to get.”   


That was news to you. The way Klaus behaved, he had the answers to anything and everything in the universe. Someone asked a question, Klaus immediately popped back with a snarky remark. You were stuck on a problem, Klaus offered you an answer from a different perspective. Sure it got annoying, and of course there were times when you wanted to smack the self serving smirk off his face, but _that_ was your Klaus. All knowing, all sassing, and all around confident in anything he said or did.    


But then... maybe that was all part of the show. After all; no one would think anything was wrong if he never gave them reason to.   


You arched a brow, careful to glance back at the road periodically. Lucky that there wasn’t much traffic this time of evening. “Not exactly sure what there is for you to figure out,” you responded. His eyes on you were setting your skin ablaze with electricity, and you were forced to do your best to push the sensation out of your mind. Klaus had his own shit to deal with; he didn’t need your frivolous little crush added to the pile, and, anyway, you’d effectively shot that horse in the face years ago. “You wanna know something, just ask.”   


“Ah, see, but that’s the _thing_ ,” Klaus retorted, tone matter of fact. “I’m not trying to figure out what music you listen to, or what your favorite color is — _obviously_ it’s green. No, I’m more interested in what makes you capable of what you did. What makes you tick, why are you so...?” He completed his question by gesturing to your general person.   


Monstrous? Traitorous? Awful?   


“I don’t know what you mean,” you said simply, making a sharp right turn. “You’re being way more annoyingly fucking cryptic than usual.”   


“Oh, you’ll have to _excuse_ me for that, dear,” he muttered, somewhere between bitterness and humor. “But we both know what happened the last time I trusted you with sensitive information.”   


Part of you wanted to defend yourself. It wasn’t like you’d _wanted_ to sell Klaus out, or abandon him the way he was convinced you had. Once upon a time, you’d had it in your mind that was the last thing you’d ever be capable of doing. The two of you were meant to run off together, start over somewhere far away from your bullshit and his troubles. The two of you were meant to be _happy_.   


But, then... things changed, and you’d been forced to walk out on Klaus. For years, you’d tried to justify it all, if only to make yourself feel better. It wasn’t like you’d never given him a second thought; quite the opposite, honestly, considering you liked to think about what the two of you might’ve been if you hadn’t been so quick sell him out.   


Wasn’t that just the way the world worked? Didn’t everyone have their price? Money, drugs, sex, fame. Everyone, _everyone_ had something. The sad truth was, when faced with your own, you hadn’t been able to refuse. Not for your own morals, not for your dignity, not for your pride.   


Not even for the sake of the one person you’d claimed to love; someone who _still_ didn’t know the truth about _why_ you had left him all those years ago.   


“Klaus,” you sighed, taking another sharp turn. Now wasn’t the time, not while you were driving and _certainly_ not while you were on the verge of an emotional break down. “You know who I am. I never told you anything that wasn’t true.”   


A humorless laugh tore from his chest, forceful and mildly bitter. “ _That’s_ a lie right there!” he spat, turning away to gaze out the window. “You told me you _loved_ me, remember? And you said you’d never leave me alone, but that wasn’t exactly the _truth_ , now was it?”   


“Do _not_ ,” you hissed, slamming the brakes and jerking the car to a sudden stop. Lucky there was no traffic to be found; you certainly would have caused a collision just then. You turned to fully face Klaus, leaning forward and making it clear that if it was a fight he wanted, a fight he would get. “ _Do_ _not_ try to sit here and tell me that how I feel for you is a big fucking lie. Do you hear me? You have no _idea_ what I went through, what I gave up just to make sure that nothing bad ever happened to you!”   


Klaus’ eyes, green and vibrant, widened in shock and disbelief, the rest of his face contorting to paint a picture of anger. That was enough to make you pause; Klaus was never one for rage. At least, he hadn’t been when you’d known him. “To make sure nothing _bad_ happened? Are you fucking _kidding_ me? Newsflash, you idiot, I’m a fucking _junkie!_ My own dad locked me in a fucking mausoleum every god damn night because he wanted me to make nice with bloody corpses! My entire childhood was some fucked up action movie and no one ever bothered to call child protective services because they thought our father was doing us a fucking favor! But you know what the one thing was that made it all worth it? The _one_ _thing_ that helped me through it all? It was the fact that I knew I had _you!_ ”   


“That’s not fair!” you yelled back, throwing your arms up in disbelief. “Fucking _Christ_ , Klaus, don’t you realize how horrible that sounds? Do you know how high of a god damned pedestal you’re putting me on when you say shit like that? I wasn’t your savior, I wasn’t your home, I was... fuck, I was just some random girl off the street, and I had my own thoughts and feelings! You don’t get to just boil me down to your sob story, okay? Me leaving wasn’t the reason your life fell apart or the reason that you turned to drugs! You had already made that choice, so hold your fucking self accountable for once, would you?”   


The words tasted terribly in your mouth, but they needed to be said. A lot had happened between you and Klaus, and it only made sense that he was still suffering the effects of how it all ended; _you_ certainly were. Several occasions saw you pondering what life might’ve been like had you not walked out. Would the two of you still be friends? More than friends? Would you still be in pursuit of that careful sort of love you’d begun to try in the last year you’d had together?   


Impossibly, Klaus smirked. It was teasing, oddly lighthearted, and far too amicable to belong in this specific encounter. The two of you were fighting, screaming at each other — why was Klaus suddenly on the verge of laughing?   


“What?” you prompted when he said nothing. He simply stared, cheeks lifting in a full blown smile. It was a lovely sight, you had to admit, but the damn thing was only adding to your current annoyance. “ _What?_ ”   


“You sound like Diego,” he mumbled, snickering as he slowly rolled his eyes before closing them.   


You gasped, smacking his shoulder as you forced yourself to keep watch of the road. Forget the fucked up thing he’d done by pretending to hallucinate you, forget the harsh barbed wire words he insisted on hurling your way. Somehow, comparing you to Diego was the most offensive thing he’d done all night. In a way, it was... it was sort of hilarious. “You take that _back!_ ”

“I can’t,” Klaus chuckled. “Oh my _god_ , you even...” His laughter was outright raucous now, reminiscent of how he used to laugh at his own jokes when the two of you were teenagers. Your chest warmed at the sight. “You even told me to hold myself accountable... haha... oh, _Jesus_ , I needed that.”   


Something came back to your mind, then, and you regarded him in curiosity as you sat idle at a red light. “Why’s it obvious?”   


Klaus arched a brow, blinking in confusion. “What do you mean?”   


“You said my favorite color is obviously green. Why’s that obvious?”   


The resulting smile he cracked was free of any ounce of pain or vindictiveness. “Because,” he answered, little giggles bursting out of him. “My eyes are green.”   


His laughter was infectious; it always had been, but it was especially contagious in that moment. Soon, the two of you were going back and forth, scoffing, then chuckling, and ultimately roaring with laughter, the noise bubbling out of you in a way it hadn’t for quite some time. For a few moments, you could pretend you were both sixteen again, making stupid jokes that were only funny to the two of you and acting like they were the height of comedy.   


This was why you’d liked Klaus; existing was always so easy around him.   


“I’m... sorry for kissing you,” he sighed eventually, face still trained toward his window. “I’m still angry with you — fucking pissed, still, actually. But that was... unnecessary.”   


You blinked, feeling the need to reciprocate. “And I’m sorry for—“   


“Don’t,” he interrupted you. “I don’t want to hear that, not yet. I’m... I’m not ready to have that conversation with you.”   


And with that, the two of you stopped talking. You drove in silence, glancing down at the map on your phone every so often and trying not to feel too strange. Hard to do, considering you could still remember a time when driving like this had been one of your and Klaus’ favorite pastimes, but you managed.   


Barely.   


You let the silence grow larger, waiting until it was too thick to stand before playing at conversation again. “Klaus, this... this doesn’t seem like the way to the Academy.” You couldn’t be sure, if only because it had been years since you’d been back in the city, but you were fairly certain that the GPS was dreading you farther and farther away from your destination with each turn you took.   


“That’s because we’re not going to the Academy,” Klaus explained simply, genuine humor lightening his tone. “I put in the directions to a boxing gym across town.”   


You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, waiting for an explanation. When it was clear Klaus wasn’t going to freely offer up anything further, you prompted, “No offense, but now hardly seems like the time to get in a work out.”   


Again, Klaus laughed; you liked the familiarity of the sound. “Oh, no, that’s not why we’re going,” he chuckled, looking over at your face for the first time in several minutes. “You say you’ve got something important to tell me, but I honestly can’t promise I’ll remember any of it in the morning. Best to tell one of the sober Hargreeves, too. You know, just in case.”   


“So, then... why are we going to a gym?”   


The resulting grin on Klaus’ face was positively wicked. “Because Diego lives there.”   


You fought the urge to stomp on the breaks, another bullet of apprehension shooting down your spine. As if stirring up all your emotional baggage wasn’t punishment enough, Klaus was now dragging you to the den of Diego Hargreeves.   


Fucking. Superb.


End file.
